She pretended to think about it.
“Harassing,” she supplied brightly.
“Employing,” he returned, taking a step forward.
“Badgering,” she offered, looking up at him defiantly.
“Convincing,” he articulated each syllable carefully—and it was then that Letitia realized that she’d been looking at his mouth.
She should have looked away the instant it occurred to her. She should have taken a step back, left the room, thrown herself into her work, and avoided this duke as best as possible for as long as possible. She should have stayed away from him. But she didn’t. Instead, her eyes stayed where they were, and she felt her breath hitch, just a little.
She forced her gaze upward and realized…
He was looking at her, too, his eyes darting around her face, but definitely, absolutely lingering on her mouth.
Why didn’t she feel any danger? Was it just because he was looking at her mouth—and not her breasts or her backside? Was she really so easily swayed?
But she must have been, because when he leaned just a little bit closer toward her, she did too.
Her hand twitched at her side, and she almost—almost—reached out to him. His smile got a little softer. She bit her lip, then watched him track the movement. He sucked in a breath.
And then, miraculously, she remembered herself. She took a step back, blinking rapidly as if she was shaking off some kind of magic spell. He looked nearly as startled as she felt, and, despite everything, she felt a flicker of satisfaction that she wasn’t the only one affected by… whatever that had been.
She didn’t waste any energy trying to describe it. What she needed to do was just get out of here. Focus on Iris, like she had been hired to do.
“Right,” she said, sounding a bit too breathless. “I will go get settled in and then meet with Iris. Thank you again for the opportunity, Your Grace.”
She didn’t make eye contact as she curtsied, and she didn’t wait for him to reply before she fled. If that made her a coward, so be it. Better a safe coward than an imperiled intrepid.
She had learned that lesson long, long ago.
CHAPTER 8
Although she was a little skittish, Iris was a lovely child. Over the next few days, Letitia realized she was melting her heart.
“What shall we do today, Miss Iris?” Letty asked her brightly on their third day together as she opened the girl’s wardrobe to find a frock for the day. Her gowns were practical for a girl of her age and easy to put on, even if she got particularly squirmy. Iris had not shown any such proclivities so far, but Letitia had enough experience trying to do up tiny pearl buttons on children hell-bent on escaping to appreciate the pragmatism.
Though the clothes were relatively simple, it was clear that no expense had been spared. They were all made of the finest cloth, so soft and buttery that Letitia wanted to rub it against her cheek.
“Outside?” Iris asked quietly, kicking her feet against the side of her bed.
Letitia smiled over her shoulder as she pulled out a sage green frock and a pair of sensible cotton stockings.
Iris had begun to open up very gradually over the first few days. She spoke only occasionally, but enough to show that it was a choice, not an inability. In fact, her words were clear, albeit influenced by a country accent, when she spoke—especially for a four-year-old, an age she had confirmed on her second day with Letitia.
Still, each quiet word pleased Letty beyond measure. It showed her that Iris was starting to feel a little safer, a little more comfortable.
“Of course, we will go outside,” Letitia said. “Have to take advantage of the good weather when we have it, don’t we?”
Iris kept kicking her heels. “Yes,” she said. “Warm.”
Letitia tried to hide how she was practically vibrating with excitement. Two words at once! It was thrilling! Still, she was determined to treat Iris like a normal child, not some sort of experiment, so she shoved down her reaction.
“Ithasbeen warm,” she agreed. “I have been in the country until recently, and I have found it much warmer in London. I don’t know why I think that’s strange. Maybe it’s because the country seems sunnier to me.”
Letitia’s chatter was idle; she had been doing this for days, rambling about whatever trivial thought came to mind, simply creating chances for Iris to speak if she wanted to. Sometimes, the girl even took them.
But this morning, Iris said in that same barely-there voice, “Country. Me too.”
